“My sister Gretchen is opening a new restaurant on Shelter Island, and she needs my help building the bar, tables, and banquettes. The permits have been a bitch, and it’s held everything up. She needs to open by mid-July if she hopes to make any money back before the season ends,” he said, running his fingers through his thick chestnut locks.
She tried to look away but couldn’t. “How wonderful and terrifying to be under that kind of time crunch.” She wouldn’t know anything about it.
“Yes, but I’ll still have plenty of time to help you.”
“You think? I wouldn’t want to …”
“I know,” he said with a relaxed smile. It was one that oozed confidence, and Dahlia was in for whatever that meant. Noah had a presence that felt safe and secure, which was a stark contrast to Spence.
She nodded. “Okay, then.”
“Really? Okay?” He jumped up and hugged her just as the fireworks resumed.
Stunned, Dahlia took in his scent. It was clean and woodsy, like fresh laundry and pine. She could feel her heart beating against his flannel shirt despite the blasts going off around them.
“You’re not going to regret it.” He pulled back, and his eyes met hers.
She lost her air. “Right. I’m sure I won’t.” She looked away before she did something stupid, like stay for another beer. “I’d better get home. It’s getting late.”
“So soon?” He shrugged, disappointment laced through his voice.
“Thanks for the beverage.” She gave him an easy nod while inside wanting to die. Who says beverage? “Come on, Harry.”
“I’ll come by tomorrow,” he called after her.
Dahlia gave a thumbs-up and kept walking. She stepped inside the house and shut the door, letting out a long breath. She’d forgotten how nice it was to have company. The armor she’d built around her heart after her parents died was slowly loosening.
What on earth had she agreed to?
CHAPTER SIX
July 4
“We’ll miss you today. FaceTime me later. I want an update on McHandy,” said Kara, prepping her cheese platter for her annual July Fourth extravaganza.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Dahlia said, leaning her elbows on the kitchen table. Her hair still smelled like smoke from Noah’s fire pit. Even though she’d showered when she came home after she called Kara, the smell lingered. “If it’s anything like last night, it will be very PG, maybe even G.”
“Let’s hope not. You might wilt if you don’t get some action soon.”
Dahlia spit out her coffee. “Kara!”
“I’m only stating the facts. We both know it’s been a while. My guess is it’s been a few years with Spence, at least,” Kara said, holding up the salami she was slicing. “You’ve gotta get back out there, girl. You’re allowed to have a summer fling if you want to. You’ve earned that right, living in that lifeless marriage all those years.”
Dahlia pursed her lips, not wanting to show her amusement even though she almost died when Kara held up the length of meat. She didn’t need any further encouragement—plus, she was right. Dahlia did need to get laid—it had been almost two years, to be exact. What happened two summers ago was the final straw, although it had been over longer before that. After the first six months of marriage, Spence treated Dahlia like an inconvenience he had to manage. Which likely came from her confronting him about the actual reason he’d come back and proposed. Apparently, the keys to his father’s financial kingdom warranted a little pretending. He was so callous about it too: “What’s the big deal? Do you know how many women would die to be in your place? Be more grateful, would you?” Her hopes of being a real family began to wilt, while he put on a show, something he was well-versed in. Only behind closed doors came a loathing she could feel deep in her bones. Most likely because she didn’t put him on a pedestal like everyone else. At the end of the day, intimacy came with feeling safe and loved, which was something he promised but never could deliver. Plus, who needed a man to be pleased? They both knew there were plenty of other ways that didn’t include the opposite sex or possible heartbreak.
“Would you look at the time?” Dahlia glared at her watch. “I have to run.”
“Think about what I said.”
“Bye.” Dahlia let out a sarcastic chuckle. Kara was right. Dahlia was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. But what she needed to do was focus on finding that key and getting this place in tip-top shape, as Lil would have wanted. Dahlia traced the ring embedded deep into the wood surface made by Lil’s teacup. She could still hear Gran’s words so clearly. “Use a saucer, Lil; you’re going to stain the table.”
Dahlia looked at her list ofThings That Need to Be Fixedand felt her neck stiffen. The pen lodged in between her fingerssuddenly was heavy. She needed to respond to the gallery about the moved-up start date by tomorrow. What was she going to do? She wasn’t sure she could get everything done in a month. Dahlia looked around the kitchen at all the small projects she knew would add up. She looked up at the wainscotting that needed to be caulked and the chipped windows that needed to be painted if she wanted a quick sale.
Dahlia sat back in Lil’s vintage bentwood chair and gazed through the pitted screen. The bay looked peaceful and still, quiet for a Long Island Fourth of July. The bottom of the cafécurtain curled with each warm waft of air that blew through. She played with her D necklace, zipping the monogram back and forth to steady her racing mind. She addedappliance partsto the list and wondered how Hank was.
Just as she reached for her phone to text Jean, she heard a knock on the back door. With that, Harry flew past her, leaving a wake of black fur that hung motionless in the air. Harry leaped onto the back door, his nails hitting the glass, and whined with excitement.
“It’s me, Noah. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
